Checked not its rage;* unfelt the ground did rock,
Sword dropped not, javelin kept its deadly aim.—
Now all is sun-bright peace. Of that day's shame,
Or glory, not a vestige seems to endure,

Save in this Rill that took from blood the namet
Which yet it bears, sweet Stream! as crystal pure.
So may all trace and sign of deeds aloof
From the true guidance of humanity,
Thro' Time and Nature's influence, purify
Their spirit; or, unless they for reproof
Or warning serve, thus let them all, on ground
That gave them being, vanish to a sound.

*

XIII.

NEAR THE SAME LAKE.

FOR action born, existing to be tried,
Powers manifold we have that intervene
To stir the heart that would too closely screen.
Her peace from images to pain allied.
What wonder if at midnight, by the side

Of Sanguinetto or broad Thrasymene,‡

The clang of arms is heard, and phantoms glide,

Unhappy ghosts in troops by moonlight seen;

Compare Hannibal, A Historical Drama, by Professor John Nichol, Act ii., sc. 6, p. 107—

"Here shall shepherds tell

To passing travellers, when we are dust,

How, by the shores of reedy Thrasymene,

We fought and conquered, while the earthquake shook

The walls of Rome."

+ Sanguinetto.-W. W., 1842.

- ED.

‡ Lake Thrasymene is the largest of the Etrurian lakes, being ten miles

in length and three in breadth.-ED.

And singly thine, O vanquished Chief!* whose corse,
Unburied, lay hid under heaps of slain :

But who is He?-the Conqueror.

Would he force

His way to Rome ? Ah, no,-round hill and plain
Wandering, he haunts, at fancy's strong command,
This spot-his shadowy death-cup in his hand.†

XIV.

THE CUCKOO AT LAVERNA.

MAY 25TH 1837.

[AMONG a thousand delightful feelings connected in my mind with the voice of the cuckoo, there is a personal one which is rather melancholy. I was first convinced that age had rather dulled my hearing, by not being able to catch the sound at the same distance as the younger companions of my walks; and of this failure I had a proof

C. Flaminius.-ED.

+ After the battle of Lake Thrasymene, Hannibal did not push on to Rome, but turned through the Apennines to Apulia, just as subsequently after the battle of Cannæ he remained inactive.-ED.

Laverna is a corruption of Alverna (now called Alverniac). It is about five or six hours' walk from Camaldoli, on a height of the Apennines, not far from the sources of the Anio. To reach it, "the southern height of the Monte Valterona is ascended as far as the chapel of St Romaiald; then a descent is made to Moggiona, beyond which the path turns to the left, traversing a long and fatiguing succession of gorges and slopes; the path at the base of the mountain is therefore preferable. The market town of Soci in the valley of the Archiano is first reached, then the profound valley of the Corsaline; beyond it rises a blunted cone, on which the path ascends in windings to a stony plain with marshy meadows. Above this rises the abrupt sandstone mass of the Vernia, to the height of 850 feet. On its S.-W. slope, one-third of the way up, and 3906 feet above the sealevel, is seen a wall with small windows, the oldest part of the monastery, built in 1218 by St Francis of Assisi. The church dates from 1284. . . . One of the grandest points is the Penna della Vernia (4796 feet), the ridge of the Vernia, also known as l'Apennino, the 'rugged rock between the sources of the Tiber and Anio,' as it is called by Dante (Paradiso ii. 106). . . . Near the monastery are the Luoghi Santi, a number of grottos and rock-hewn chambers in which St Francis once lived."—(See Baedeker's Northern Italy, p. 425.)

...

"The Monte Alverno, or Monte della Vernia is situated on the border of Tuscany, near the sources of the Tiber and Anio, not far from the Castle

upon the occasion that suggested these verses. I did not hear the sound till Mr Robinson had twice or thrice directed my attention to it.]

LIST 'twas the Cuckoo.-O with what delight
Heard I that voice! and catch it now, though faint,*

Far off and faint, and melting into air,

Yet not to be mistaken. Hark again!

Those louder cries give notice that the Bird,
Although invisible as Echo's self,†

Is wheeling hitherward. Thanks, happy Creature,
For this unthought-of greeting!

While allured

From vale to hill, from hill to vale led on,

We have pursued, through various lands, a long
And pleasant course; flower after flower has blown,
Embellishing the ground that gave them birth
With aspects novel to my sight; but still
Most fair, most welcome, when they drank the dew
In a sweet fellowship with kinds beloved,
For old remembrance sake. And oft-where Spring
Display'd her richest blossoms among files
Of orange-trees bedecked with glowing fruit
Ripe for the hand, or under a thick shade

Of Ilex, or, if better suited to the hour,
The lightsome Olive's twinkling canopy—‡
Oft have I heard the Nightingale and Thrush.
Blending as in a common English grove

Their love-songs; but, where'er my feet might roam,

of Chuisi, where Orlando lived."-(Mrs Oliphant's Francis of Assisi, chap. xvi., p. 248.)

See also Herzog's Real-Encyklopädie für Protestantische Theologie und Kirche, Vol. IV., p. 655.-ED.

* Compare To the Cuckoo (Vol. III. p. 2).-ED.

+ Compare

"No bird but an invisible thing."

(Vol. III. p. 2.)-ED. From the difference in the colour of each side of the leaf, a grove of olives when wind-tossed is pre-eminently a "twinkling canopy."--ED.

Whate'er assemblages of new and old,
Strange and familiar, might beguile the way,
A gratulation from that vagrant Voice
Was wanting-and most happily till now.

For see, Laverna! mark the far-famed Pile,
High on the brink of that precipitous rock,*
Implanted like a Fortress, as in truth
It is, a Christian Fortress, garrisoned
In faith and hope, and dutiful obedience,

By a few Monks, a stern society,

Dead to the world and scorning earth-born joys,

Nay-though the hopes that drew, the fears that drove, St Francis, far from Man's resort, to abide

Among these sterile heights of Apennine,†

Bound him, nor, since he raised yon House, have ceased To bind his spiritual Progeny, with rules

Stringent as flesh can tolerate and live; ‡

His milder Genius (thanks to the good God

See note, p. 63.—ED.

+ St Francis of Assisi, founder of the order of Friars Minors, after establishing numerous monasteries in Italy, Spain, and France, resigned his office and retired to this, one of the highest of the Apennine heights. See note ‡, p. 63. He was canonized in 1230. Henry Crabbe Robinson tells us, "It was at Laverna that he (W. W.) led me to expect that he had found a subject on which he could write, and that was the love which birds bore to St Francis. He repeated to me a short time afterwards a few lines, which I do not recollect amongst those he has written on St Francis in this poem. On the journey, one night only I heard him in bed composing verses, and on the following day 1 offered to be his amanuensis; but I was not patient enough, I fear, and he did not employ me a second time. He made enquiries for St Francis's biography, as if he would dub him his Leibheiliger (body-saint), as Goethe (saying that every one must have one) declared St Philip Neri to be his." See Memoirs of Wordsworth, Vol. II., p. 331.-ED.

The characteristic feature of the Franciscan order was its vow of Poverty, and Francis desired that it should be taken in the most rigorous sense, viz., that no individual member of the fraternity, nor the fraternity itself, should be allowed to possess any property whatsoever, even in things necessary to human use. -ED.

That made us) over those severe restraints
Of mind, that dread heart-freezing discipline,
Doth sometimes here predominate, and works
By unsought means for gracious purposes;

For earth through heaven, for heaven, by changeful earth
Illustrated, and mutually endeared.

Rapt though He were above the power of sense,
Familiarly, yet out of the cleansed heart
Of that once sinful Being overflowed
On sun, moon, stars, the nether elements,
And every shape of creature they sustain,
Divine affections; and with beast and bird
(Stilled from afar-such marvel story tells-
By casual outbreak of his passionate words,
And from their own pursuits in field or grove
Drawn to his side by look or act of love
Humane, and virtue of his innocent life)
He wont to hold companionship so free,
So pure, so fraught with knowledge and delight,
As to be likened in his Follower's minds

To that which our first Parents, ere the fall

From their high state darkened the Earth with fear,
Held with all kinds in Eden's blissful bowers.

Then question not that, 'mid the austere Band, Who breathe the air he breathed, tread where he trod, Some true Partakers of his loving spirit

*

Do still survive, and, with those gentle hearts

Consorted, Others, in the power, the faith,

Of a baptised imagination, prompt

* The members of the Franciscan order were the Stoics of Christendom. The order has been powerful, and of great service to the Roman Churchalike in literature, and in practical action and enterprise.-ED.